


Perfection

by Sziondaisy



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Non con fantasy (brief mention), Other, Self servicing, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sziondaisy/pseuds/Sziondaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knockout is looking for perfection and he’s found it in the only mech who understands him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wrote this three years ago and recently found it again. After sprucing it up a little, I decided to repost it. 
> 
> 2000 words of Knockout sticky PWP with a surprise ending. This fic has no purpose, it’s just straight up smut.

The only light in the room came from a small desk lamp, angled slightly towards the berth, the light itself was too weak to fill the whole room, leaving the far end in heavy shadow. Knockout could just make out the mech sitting opposite him, flawless with his graceful curves and sharp edges all exaggerated by the muted highlights and dark pools of shadow.

Perfection personified, without doubt the most exquisite frame he'd ever seen.

"You really are something special," Knockout murmured lustfully. His vents whirred softly around a sharp intake of air as the other mech returned his compliment, "those curves are to die for and that colour is exquisite. I like a mech who takes pride their appearance, I mean honestly, you’d think the mechs here have never heard of a wax and polish. Have you seen their paintwork? A tragedy. You, my friend, are beautiful."

Knockout sighed loudly and shook his head, sometimes it was hard to be the most attractive mech Primus had ever graced with a spark. Tearing his mind away from the thoughts of scratched frames and dull paint, he traced his interface panel with a long, elegant finger and traced his lips with the other, teasingly sucking as he put on his show. The mech before him was a far more interesting piece of frame to observe, moving like fluid, graceful and deadly. With a soft click, Knockout opened his panel, revealing an already slick valve. A sharp claw delicately circled the rim and brought the sweet lubricant to his lips. Knockout swiped a tongue over the finger and revved his engine.

The red sports car spread his legs and leaned back slightly, giving his partner a better view of his valve as he thrust his fingers deep inside and moaned. "I know you want this," he drawled, tongue flicking out to lick at his bottom lip as he threw his head back and moaned wantonly, unashamed of his show, "but you can't have it, Breakdown hates it when I share. So you'll have to live with looking but not touching. It'll be hard I know."

There was a smirk on the faceplate of the other mech as he copied Knockout and thrust his fingers a little harder into his own well lubricated valve. They both liked to be watched, they were gorgeous and who in their right processor wouldn't want to see them displaying themselves like common berth slaves? Even Breakdown would have to admit they were a sight together.

There was a moan and both mechs arched under their touches, finding their major valve nodes and stroking them as their free servos raked over their frames. Claw-like fingers scratched over their chests, careful of their paint-work, and dipped into their headlight seals. Dermal sensors sprung to life and pleasure coursed through their sensor nets, offset by the rare spark of pain as claws grew too eager and caught on protoform metal - more sensitive than armour.

"Beautiful," Knockout smirked, "simply stunning."

Soft moans and whirring fans filled the otherwise silent room. Knockout leaned back and locked optics with the other mech, smirking at the lust and pleasure in his stunning red optics. A thrill shot through Knockout, eager and excited, turned on and almost coy. Almost.

The feeling pooled in his spike as the thick cable pressed against its cover, reminding him that his spike was still painfully locked inside. "Not yet," he warned the other mech with a growl, his speech coming in small gasps as he added another finger to his valve, stretching the tight walls, "you have to be patient, you know you can't rush perfection."

Back arching into a graceful curve, Knockout threw his helm back and offlined his optics, sinking into the pleasure that built between his legs. A long, strangled moan broke free of his vocaliser and joined the other varied noises coming from his frame. Gentle touches raked over his frame with teasing speed, igniting his sensor net in a wash of pleasure that crackled over his frame in sparks of electricity that jumped from his frame to his fingers.

Even if the other mechs on the ship liked to forget, Knockout was a medic, the others might think he was barely more than a first aid drone, but they couldn't have been more wrong. There was no one on the Nemesis who knew anatomy like he did. No one who could turn a mech into a whimpering mess by touching the hidden sweet spots known only to a medic trained to understand the Cybertronian frame inside and out.

Knockout's valve walls tightened around his fingers as he brushed his ceiling valve node, he hissed and jerked as his claws threatened to tear the lining. That was one repair he would rather not have to deal with, especially on himself. Growling in annoyance, he pulled his fingers free and sucked on the tip, the bitter taste of lubricants and energon tingling on his tongue. He could see the other mech scrutinising his frame, optics narrowed, obviously looking for flaws, not that they would find any. Knockout knew he was perfection.

"I think it's...ngh...time now," the red car moaned, rocking hips to fool his spike into thinking it was already free. With the pleasure shared between his spike and valve there would be no danger of tearing his valve walls in his eagerness and excitement.

The other mech seemed to be in agreement and looked just as needy as Knockout. In unison they retracted their spike covers, vents hitching at the sudden ache from their neglected cables.

Dropping a servo to his valve again, Knockout gently pushed two fingers inside and thrust shallowly, up to the first knuckle. His free servo trailed his chest, finding the gaps in his armour and slipping underneath to touch his hot protoform. The thrill of being close to his spark chamber with a hand that turned into a saw, was a thrill, one wrong transformation and it would be all over for him. The subconscious fear only helped to fuel his desire.

"Primus..." Knockout groaned, optics glued to the cable of the other mech. Average length for his size, but thicker with a larger rounded tip perfect for activating valve sensors. Knockout bit his lip, it would be a stretch to take it, but it would be worth the burn, "I bet you'd be one hell of a ride."

The other mech smirked knowingly.

Knockout's hips hips moved on their own, rolling slowly in an effort to remind himself his spike was being neglected. Following his smug partner's lead, he brought his free servo down to his spike and traced the biolights.

Knockout choked on a moan and his valve tightened around his fingers. The other mech had him enraptured, trapped in a spider's web of beauty and grace. He moaned and bucked into his servo, unsure when it had wrapped around his spike and started moving. He didn't stop to wonder that, instead, he dragged his claws up its length and he smiled as he spike jumped from the mix of pleasure and pain. Repeating the action a little harder he shivered as he moaned.

"Ohh, you look so good, you're dripping all over the berth like filthy, cheap piece of shareware." Not that Knockout minded, the other mech was dripping because of him, because he was so delicious to watch. The other mech thought he was beautiful and that was all that mattered. In his lust fogged processor he knew he'd be the one cleaning the mess up, otherwise he'd end up with recharging on the filthy mess and Breakdown would complain. Again.

At that moment though it didn't matter, the other mech was there and watching Knockout just as intently as Knockout watched back.

Wrapping his servo tightly around his spike, Knockout squeezed just enough to make himself gasp, then stroked himself slowly to build up his overload energy.

He Imagined himself crawling forward and pressing against the delicious mech before him, they'd share a sloppy, needy kiss as he, slowly, ever so slowly, sank his spike into that welcoming, dripping valve. He'd savour the moans made because of him, listen to the soft pleas of his name whispered in lusty tones. He'd dig his claws into his companion's hips and make him scream in pain before making him scream in pleasure. Energon and lubricants would drip to the berth and the mech would offline his optics in bliss as his frame tried to decide between what was pain and what was pleasure. Oh, his lover would hurt as Knockout pounded that tight, little valve as hard as Breakdown liked to pound Bulkhead. Knockout would make sure it hurt, just so the pleasure was sweeter. He would twist his hips, thrust hard and aim for the sensors, listen to those cries of agony that turned to bliss. He'd be determined to push the mech more after that, to see how much pleasure his partner could take before it became too much and he cried out to stop.

Knockout was the most handsome mech on the Nemesis, no one else was supposed to look as good as he did. Rivals needed to be disposed of.

Maybe after he'd taken his pleasure from the mech, Knockout would tie him up and give him to Breakdown. Watch as his usually careful lover fragged his gift brutally and touch himself to the horror he would witness. A beautiful tragedy unravelling before his very optics. Destroyed beauty.

The fantasy almost tipped him over the edge and Knockout removed his hand from his spike. His hips thrust forcefully against air, looking for friction.

Frame shaking from the force of his impending overload, Knockout forced himself onto all fours and crawled across the berth, approaching the other mech like a predator. Breakdown didn't like it when he was covered in another mech's transfluids, but Breakdown had said nothing about hating Knockout covering another mech in /his/ transfluid. Using one servo to support himself on the wall, Knockout loomed over the other mech and pumped his spike urgently. It barely took three strokes before he'd overloaded with a sharp cry, electricity crackling over his frame as rode out the waves of pleasure. Transfluid shot from his spike in long silver streams, covering the other mech and dripping down flawless paint.

Knockout's frame drooped, vents raging as they tried to cool his overheating frame. His servo still moved slowly on his spike, dragging the pleasure out until it became to painful to do so.

Slumping back against the berth, Knockout gave himself a short recovery period, allowing his spark and vents to slow to a normal operating level.

Pushing himself to sit up, Knockout huffed at the mess and cleaned himself up with a cloth from the side-table. He was meticulous with his cleaning, removing all the evidence so that Breakdown would never know. Snapping his panels closed, he turned his attention back on the other mech.

“Look at you,” he tutted, “covered in fluid like a berth-slave.”

Knockout's smile was more of a smirk, “if only Breakdown could see you now.”

He reached out, running his fingers through the transfluid, to watch it smear.

Sighing softly, he grabbed the cloth and cleaned the mirror, wiping off the last traces of his transfluid, effectively ending the fantasy. The mirror went back into storage under the berth and Knockout lay back, waiting for his lover to return from his shift.

Oh yes, there were plenty of things he would do to himself if he had the chance to meet a twin, after all, reflections were never as good as the real thing.

 


End file.
